


Short Stories of Thedas' Buddies

by Manuka



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuka/pseuds/Manuka
Summary: A collection of short one-shots written for friends with their own characters
Relationships: Alistair/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke, Male Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Male Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet, Male Mahariel/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Morrigan/Male Warden (Dragon Age), OC/Carver Hawke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. Katar Adaar

Katar feels like he has tried everything to draw Lady Montilyet’s attention, with no result.

He has crafted and polished a little flower made of a very nice dark and purple-ish wood, with a bit of help from Blackwall; Josephine has thanked him with an amazing smile and put it on her desk, the soft honey scent of the wax spreading gently in her office.

He has been to Val Royeaux to buy her some tea and has asked Skyhold’s cooks to bake some biscuits and cakes that he has brought her, asking her to take a break from work; the kind Ambassador has seemed touched by his concern, appreciating both the hot beverage and the snacks.

And now, because he has no idea what excuse he should use to spend some more time with her, Katar can do nothing but stare at the frightening amount of papers placed on the desk in front of them.

“I’m quite pleased you have decided to learn more about Orlesian’s politics,” Josie smiles brightly.

He sits next to her, nodding bravely.

“Let us begin then! There is a lot to review.”

Sweet, gentle and smart Josephine. What wouldn’t he do for her, indeed.


	2. Kallian Tabris

“My dear Kallian… No, no, that won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

Alistair sighs loudly, rubs his forehead, then rubs it again because the first time did nothing to help his growing headache. Can he say “ _dear_ ” already, or is it too soon? He has no idea how relationships work. He crosses out the word, but now “ _My Kallian_ ” feels even more weird, but “ _Kallian_ ” alone seems too harsh for a greeting.

“My, my, are you trying your hand at writing poetry?” comes a teasing voice.

Zevran takes a sneak peek above his shoulder before he can put the letter away. The elf lets out a soft whistle, apparently pleased with what he sees.

“Oh it’s even better! A love letter!” He sits very next to him, a wide smile stretching his lips.

“I don’t need your help,” Alistair replies, but it sounds desperate even to his ears.

“Of course you do, and I am very glad to be of assistance, my friend.”

With a sigh, the man lets him do as he wishes, and a part of him already knows he is deep in trouble. Maybe writing a letter to her wasn’t a very good idea, after all.


	3. Brennus Armat

There is definitely something wrong with the recipe, if the consistency of the cake is any proof. It seems far too thick, the whisk almost stuck in it. Carver doubts it is normal at all.

“Maker, what have I gotten myself into?” he mumbles.

Okay, so the mix is wrong, but there is no way he will give up now. Brennus deserves some treat and Carver is not one to chicken up when facing a threat, even if that threat is coming from a chocolate cake recipe –especially if the threat is coming from a chocolate cake recipe. Surely adding some milk would do.

… Well, maybe pouring half the bottle wasn’t such a good idea. Making a new cake seems the best solution now, but he’s out of eggs and he is afraid of looking for some strange eggless recipes online. No, he _will_ defeat that cake. He has to.

When Brennus comes home later this evening, there is indeed a cake on the table; perfectly shaped, shiny and appetising.

“Oh my! Did you make it?” he asks, impressed.

Carver glances towards his phone where the number of the bakery down the street is still displayed.

“… Not exactly.”


	4. Evelyn Trevelyan

Evelyn sighs loudly for what feels like the hundredth time in less than ten minutes. She just feels exhausted, drained, defeated –paperwork is terrible, despite Josephine’s kind words of advice and a whole coffee pot. Was it only one coffee pot? Was it even coffee?? She is not sure anymore, after reading reports and letters for hours straight without even stretching her legs.

She lets herself slide on top of her desk, closing her eyes with a demoralized groan. She needs some days off. Nice and long holidays nearby the coast, where she can go to swim and feel the ocean sprays on her face when the wind blows. Cullen would be there with her, holding her hands to forbid her to slip on the watery stones; she would pretend to fall, grabbing his arms to better kiss his neck when he would hold her close to him.

“-tor? Inquisitor?”

She jerks upright, her cheeks burning. Cullen is there, an eyebrow raised in a gentle but teasing look.

“I’m here! I’m fine!” she stutters briefly, putting her hair back behind her ears.

He laughs quietly and comes closer, leaving more papers on the desk.

“You’re doing well, Evelyn,” he says softly. “Maybe when you’re finished, we could enjoy some time together?”

It’s not a day off, but it’s still better than nothing.


	5. Natalia Trevelyan

Sitting behind his desk, his elbows on top of it and his hands curled thoughtfully in front of his mouth, Cullen is staring into space, frowning slightly. He knows he should focus on the papers pilling up in front of him, reports and letters more boring with each sheet, but his wandering thoughts can’t let him work properly, so he just indulges himself in daydreaming.

It may not be quite befitting as the Commander of the Inquisition to think about some time off with the Inquisitor, but since the two of them have grown fond of each other despite their tumultuous start, he surprises himself _imagining_. Of course, they don’t have time for now, but when the breach will be closed, maybe then they could enjoy some time together.

But to do what? He couldn’t just go to Natalia and tell her “ _let’s go somewhere_ ”, could he? A soothing walk in the nearby forest, perhaps? Or a few days off at the coast, appreciating the calming sound of the backwash, walking bare feet in the sand?

Despite her fiery mind, he knows deep down Natalia is a romantic and gentle soul; maybe one of this two ideas would please her.


	6. Juliette Trevelyan

Juliette knows she is running out of time. She knows it, deep down; she can feel it in her bones. As the thought comes to her mind, her breath speeds up and her heart beats louder.

“Breath, Juliette,” she says to herself.

She places her hands on top of her stomach –oh Maker, she is going to be sick. She inhales deeply, then exhales slowly. She shouldn’t be that nervous, she knows that, but her throat is still so tight. She repeats the breathing exercise a few more times, until she feels a bit calmer.

“You faced Corypheus, girl, you can do that,” she mumbles.

It’s too late to back out, she has no other choice now but to deal with whatever life has decided to plague her with. She knows her strength, she has found her courage and bravery when she was at the head of the Inquisition. This is just another obstacle, nothing she can’t overcome.

“Damn right, you badass-”

“Juliette? We’re going to be late, are you ready?”

Juliette almost screams when she hears Cullen from behind the door.

“I’m not!”

He enters, blinks when he sees her dress is still laying on the bed.

“Love, are you alright?”

“We’re meeting your family!! Of course I’m not!”


	7. Scarlett Hawke

When Fenris sees Hawke at his door, leaning onto the frame with a smirk stretching her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, he knows his evening is going to be far different than his usual ‘broody drinking’. A quick glance at the woman makes him raise an eyebrow; instead of her usual clothes, comfortable and practical, she wears some skin-tight breeches and high heel boots. But what truly catches his sight is the red velvet corset that definitely draws attention to her lean silhouette.

“Evening, Fenris,” she greets with a smile. “Am I supposed to wait outside all night or can I come in?”

“What are you doing here, Hawke?” the elf replies with an unabashed look –or at least he hopes so.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she dares answering. “Having a nice walk around and then deciding I didn’t want to drink alone, so I’m here.”

“Why not the Hanged Man?”

“I’ve already lost twice at Wicked Grace, I think it’s enough for tonight.”

“And what about the outfit?”

“Oh, this?” She laughs awkwardly, as if she hasn’t thought of an appropriate answer. “I just wanted a bit of change, y’know?”

Fenris stares, his arms folded in front of him.

“All right!” Hawkes rolls her eyes. “I lost a bet, and now I need help taking that thing off.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“One of my boobs is stuck, Fenris, do you think I would joke about that?”


	8. Fen'rei Lavellan

Solas never expected the Inquisitor to be who she is. Fen’rei is collected, but her smart and impromptu teasing never fails to bring a smile out of him. She is strong, kind, but sometimes shy. Being Inquisitor is synonym to a lot of responsibilities, and even if he often sees doubt in her eyes, she takes every challenge.

He notices a lot of things when it comes to her. The colour of her eyes, the way the scar on her temple moves when she smiles, her frowns when she is thinking hard about something.

Among all these details he notices and remembers, there is one he is very fond of; he hasn’t asked yet where it comes from, but he loves the way she wraps blankets around herself like some kind of protective nest, when they’re out on missions for the Inquisition. It’s always far too big for her thin silhouette, but it never seems to bother her, and the content smile she wears then forbids him to enquire about this funny and cute habit of hers.

So, when he sees exhaustion in her eyes one evening, he goes in her tent and sets up her warm and comfortable nest for her. If the touched look he gets in return makes his heart beat faster, it’s no-one’s problem but his.


	9. Elluin Lavellan

Elluin Lavellan is something for sure, and Solas would never be one to say the opposite. Everything about her draws his attention, forcing him to focus on her, and her only, no matter what happens around.

At first, he is very disconcerted, of course. The thin Dalish he has saved, shivering under the sheets as she was fighting for her life against the burning fever, didn’t appear very threatening. But oh, has he changed his mind quickly when he has seen her back on her feet, her eyes shining, her hair moving with every blow of wind. The little Dalish girl is quick on her feet, has a sharp mind, an amazing smile and most of all, her laughter makes him stop breathing.

He cannot be distracted every time Elluin smiles or laughs, though, especially since she does that far more often than he has expected. With time, he learns to let some part of himself aware of his surroundings while the rest of him bathes in the delightful sound of Elluin’s voice. It’s like rain on pure green leaves, it’s a waterfall of joy, rushing and taking everything in its path, especially his heart.

“ _May the dread wolf take you_ ”, the old Dalish curse, has never been more wrong.


	10. Elgar Mahariel

Elgar is still unsure about his idea, but it’s too late to give up and he is no coward. Alistair would certainly argue that facing Morrigan is far more frightening than fighting darkspawns, but Alistair isn’t here and Elgar has never listened to him concerning his lover.

She is presently with the boys, teaching them whatever today’s lesson is about. Morgan is watching her intensely, but he is still young and Elgar doubts he truly understands everything. Next to his younger brother, Keiran is fidgeting, paying a poor attention to her mother’s talk. He glances towards his father, and even from where he is standing, Elgar can see his eyes widen and an excited smile stretch his lips. He slowly shakes his head and frowns in hope Keiran will eventually listen to his mother; their first born will end up ruining his plan because of his inattention, even if it’s cute. He shouldn’t have talked about it with him, but he needed his opinion.

Of course, Morrigan notices immediately and rolls her eyes.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asks, an eyebrow raised and her lips pinched.

Oh, she is beautiful when she is annoyed. Elgar comes forward while Keiran lowers his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his cheeks a bit red of embarrassment.

“It’s my fault,” Elgar answers, gently rub the boys’ hair. “I need to talk to your mother for a moment, okay?”

“I’ll pretend I’m surprised.” Morrigan’s tone is biting, and she folds her arms while the kids give them some space. “They have much to learn, Elgar. You’re leaving soon and I won’t have time to teach them anything with the Empress’ court watching my every movement.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you up to?” she sighs.

He brings a small box out of his pocket, handing it to her. She blinks slowly, catches his gaze briefly.

“What is this?”

“You only have to open it.”

She grabs the box with an irritated gesture, but Elgar knows her well enough to see her stoic facade is slightly crumbling with surprise. She hesitates, clearly nervous –Elgar would tease her if he wasn’t nervous too- and eventually opens it. She lets out a small breath, watching the thin ring that sits inside, alongside a golden chain.

“…What is that?”

“A promise.”

He takes the necklace, the ring already attached to it, and offers to tie it for her. She nods, keeping quiet as he places the jewellery around her neck.

“A promise,” she repeats when he is done.

“We never talked about being engaged,” he answers carefully. “So it’s not a proposal. But when I get back… Perhaps we could.”

“Get engaged?”

“Talk about it.”

She hums thoughtfully, tracing the edges of the band with her fingers.

“Perhaps we could, indeed.”

“Talk about it?”

She turns around to face him with a grin, and cups his cheek.

“Get engaged.”


	11. Adelaide Trevelyan

The wooden cat was sitting on the worktable, its head slightly inclined and its tail covering the front paws. Blackwall hummed thoughtfully, a frown wrinkling his nose; it was the first time, from memory, that he was doing a piece on purpose. Usually, the ideas came to his mind as he was working, or if he already had one, it was rather vague and came to life bit by bit. But this time, he had pictured it entirely from the very beginning, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the result or not. The animal seemed quite similar to the one it was inspired by, but was it good enough for her?

He cleared his throat at the thought, even if he was alone, and decided to fix some small details; the ears were a bit too big to his liking. Focusing on his work was also an excellent way to not think too much about Adelaide –oh, who was he kidding? Of course he was thinking of the Inquisitor, the cat was a gift for her after all.

He could easily remember the softness of her face when she had spotted the black cat, in a village they had crossed a few days ago. The animal had come to her call to be patted, and Adelaide’s expression had been so gentle that Blackwall had immediately wanted to see it again. Thus, the small cat he was carving from the dark wood he had found in his stock. The wood wasn’t exactly black, but the colour was deep enough, and the piece was almost the same size as the feline. He hoped it would bring her the same joy the cat had, and that this little gift would lighten her mood since the past few days had been tiring.

Now, the ears were fixed, and he had polished the wood so well it was shining with the sunrays. He supposed he couldn’t delay any further the moment to give it to her.

He wrapped the wooden cat in a thin layer of paper and took it in his arms, heading to the Herald’s Rest. It was mid-afternoon, and it was where Adelaide would most likely be at this time of the day, if Josephine hadn’t asked for her opinion concerning politic matters. He entered the tavern, quickly greeted the people he spotted, and went upstairs as silently as possible. There she was, indeed, sitting with an opened book on her knees, captivated by her reading. Blackwall watched her for a few seconds, hesitant to disturb her peaceful bubble, but as if she had sensed his presence, Adelaide lifted her head and saw him.

“Oh!” She smiled, obviously surprised, and closed her book. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I won’t bother you for long,” he promised, returning her smile. “I… have something for you.”

He came next to her, handing her the gift. She took it with wide eyes, a slight blush colouring her cheeks.

“For me? That’s very kind, I don’t know what to say.”

Blackwall slowly shook his head, touched by her reaction. She quickly unwrapped the package, and froze with a quiet gasp. He swallowed, placing his hands in his back to keep his composure.

“It’s not much,” he eventually said. “But I hope you will like it.”

Adelaide turned the cat between her hands, stroking the wood in awe.

“You did that for me?” she breathed out.

“I saw the way you looked at the black cat we met the other day.”

She carefully placed it next to her chair, then got on her feet and before he could react, she was hugging him.

“Thank you. I love it.”

He returned her embrace a bit awkwardly, but with a light heart.

“You’re very welcome.”


End file.
